


First time

by Littlefishgarbage



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-20
Updated: 2020-10-20
Packaged: 2021-03-18 16:41:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29612346
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Littlefishgarbage/pseuds/Littlefishgarbage
Relationships: Sauron | Mairon/Witch-King Of Angmar





	First time

**Second Age**

Contemplating orcs and men far below, the Black Сaptain stood still by the wide arch of the window. Driven by their errands the dots of slaves wriggled in their constant movement to and fro. Reverberations of their cries reached his hearing, though the exact words remained undistinguishable even for his keen hearing. Be it day or night Lugburz never slept, always bustling at any hour.

Here in the Tower orcish troops abode on the low levels. On the middle and the upper ones high-ranked Haradrim, Black Númenóreans, Easterlings and men of all kind gathered to discuss battle plans. There they shared strategy and tactics between their troops and took part in war assemblies when summoned.

To the Nine belonged the uppermost levels below the Dark Lord's personal quarters alone. And the largest chambers were in possession of the Lord of the Nazgûl, the highest-ranked among them.

His gaze glided mindfully over the grim landscape of the heart of Mordor, on the ashes, that had always strewn the soil; a constant reminder of the never-slumbering volcano. His home.

Yet he did not search for anything in particular. He only waited for a mental call for the war council - a familiar tug on a leash in his mind and a sign of attention.

With some impatient anticipation he expected the familiar pleasant tingling in his mind, the one he craved above all. And for the sake of it, with cold and relentless determination he ensured, that he eventually became the first among the followers, lest no soul would ever dare to rival his place beside his Master.

At last, averting his gaze from the sight below he turned away from the window. With his eyes closed, he reclined with his back against the wall.

 _Master_ , he uttered in his mind. 

He remembered his heart making a choice after a life-long silence - the choice that became his doom, for it left him no hope. But he would not have it otherwise. 

Day after day he could only tantalise his soul with bold dreams. Dreaming, how his Master first would cross far more intimate lines than their subordination allowed. Even his ring failed to subdue the yearnings of his mortal flesh.

Recalling the vision of his Master he felt how his heart began to race. 

_A perfection incarnate, you make any Elf or Man wither and turn crude_ , he thought as if applying, half pleading to the subject of his dream. 

Yet with admiration also came jealousy, its claws dug mercilessly into his heart.

Of course such beauty attracted desire. Men and women of the Tower, as well as the rest of the Nine - all of them undoubtedly fancied the Maia in their secret night dreams. But the Nine at least, subdued to his command. They were compelled to hold their insolent tongues behind their teeth in Sauron’s presence because they had learnt to fear their Captain's ire. Otherwise they definitely would allow some audacious hint slip loose off their tongues. Not that this very fact bothered him but the possibility that the Master could consider it… that was inacceptable and infuriating and he could not allow this happen. 

Then his thought turned to his Master again. He deemed the Maia to be pure, since he had never deigned to indulge in the carnal games of the mortals. And it fascinated him. Every time he considered it, his blood ran hot in his veins.

The knowledge itself, that no lustful paws had ever sullied his impeccable body, delivered a tingle of delight to the Black Captain. 

If only for a rare minute of respite, the Lord of the Nine let his restraint loosen, relishing in that thought. The mental images of the long light hair, those seductive lips and the delicate body became too real. He could, he wanted to withstand them no more. He let his hand slide down to undo the laces of his breeches. With impatience he tightened his palm around his hardened flesh. With his fingers stroking the hard shaft, heart pounding, feeling unbearably hot, he lost himself in the hot waves of pleasure.

Meanwhile the council had eventually begun. As ever Sauron preferred to be the last to appear. He indulged in a slow walk through corridors, his fingers trailing the cold stone of the walls, probing every crevice. To be physical and to share contact with all existing things on Arda,- sometimes it pleased him and sometimes not. This time it distracted him from the buzzling thoughts in his head. War, plans, tactics, troops... He could not banish them from his ever alert mind that easy.

Walking past the hallways of the Nine, he stopped, stung by a sudden whim and unexpectedly even for himself, he yielded to it. Instead of calling his Captain through their mental bond, he entered his servant's private chambers in person.

At the archway he halted, tilting his head, eyes widened slightly. The sight that had been revealed before him was amusing - he had always deemed lust and the First of the Nine be related as closely as water and fire.

He recalled that before accepting the ring, the Prince of Númenor abode by celibacy. Until the end the man followed the path chosen in his youth zealously. Though, the reasons for it remained obscure for everyone. And at first they were of little interest to the Maia. Hence, he had never peered so deep into his Captain’s mind. Moreover, Sauron himself considered the need for carnal pleasures an essential flaw of the Firstborn and Secondborn and he despised their nature. The languid Elves who could only mock the true Lifeforce - those miserable creatures of Eru spent centuries in search of their spouse to beget a sole child in their unendingly long life. Or their opposite, the Men who got used to reckless and mindless mating, often senseless as well, just like the copulation of wild beasts. Both reasons merely aroused disdain in him.

Yet not this time. All of sudden the Maia felt a compulsion to glimpse into his Captain's thoughts to reveal the possible reason for his surrender to the weaknesses of a mortal hroa. Perhaps, he failed to perceive through the ever frozen countenance of his Captain something he had not fully comprehended and he could not let it be. 

He already almost touched inside his Captain with his mental reach but recalled himself abruptly: the minds of the Nine had always been open for him, nevertheless, they would sense any mental penetration and the Nazgul would become alert of him at once. So he merely continued watching. 

Surely, it was unimaginable that his minion would fall for any woman or a man residing in the Tower, and yet... and yet...

All of sudden a hot flare of a feeling he had never known before surged inside him, forcing his toes to curl. The Lord of Mordor would not tolerate anyone who might have dared to challenge his authority over his servant. Even if in such a bizarre manner. He did not share power, nor minions.

Overwhelmed by the storm of the oddest emotions—dumbfounded, seething in the new feeling, all of the sudden turning vulnerable and powerless, searching for answers and not finding them—he could only observe his minion pleasuring himself. He froze for minutes until at last, his Captain found his release. And once he spillt his seed, a word escaped his lips.

“Master.”

At once Sauron felt as if he, armourless, was stabbed by an invisible lance. Nonetheless, he did not intend to conceal his presence any longer.

“It is high time you were in the council hall, or would you rather make them wait?” His forcefully calm voice broke the silence, returning his servant to reality, dispelling his dreams and forcing his eyes open. The Captain knelt hastily, lowering his head. 

Embarrassment. It could not evade Sauron’s gaze.

“Master, I beg Your pardon. I—”

“No more words,” He let his voice sound smooth despite the storm inside him. In his spare time he had to ponder upon what he had seen. His instincts foretasted a new promising aspect of his power, something he had disregarded before. Something that he could use, turn and twist to his advantage in order to make it serve his purpose. Perhaps he could foster an even stronger bond, to reforge a mortal man's soul into his personal toy; that kind of sport had always attracted him since his days in Angband. Seized by those thoughts, he turned away and left his Captain's chambers.

Left alone, the Lord of the Nazgûl remained kneeling, petrified. He did not dare to shift or breathe, apprehending the harsh retribution he had invoked with his unintended insolence.


End file.
